


Black Diamond

by lunchbucket



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Colorado, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Skiing, Steamboat Springs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchbucket/pseuds/lunchbucket
Summary: Remus is pissed at James for abandoning him on the mountain during their ski vacation. Thankfully, another skier shows up to help him out.





	Black Diamond

“Fucking hell, James, I am going to kill you,” Remus shouted furiously, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. He was, somehow, simultaneously thankful and terrified that there was no other person in sight to witness his situation — and impending meltdown.

“‘Go skiing’, they said. ‘It will be fun,’ they said,” Remus continued, mumbling an incessant stream of curses, his breath visible in the chilled morning air with every word. He leaned over on his right ski, which was positioned higher up the slope than the left, stuck his two poles into the icy snow in front of him, and leaned forward in an attempt to tame his frantic breathing. “Fucking James, an intermediate slope my ass.” 

After his breath had calmed down a couple of minutes later, Remus reluctantly turned his gaze back to the downhill slope ahead of him -- the slope that James had promised would be “not a problem, dude, don’t worry about it, I believe in you!” But no, James had screwed him royally. The run was a fucking beast, easily a black diamond in Remus’ opinion, outside of his skill level normally, but especially now, as the run’s difficulty was only intensified by the icy conditions; it was only 8am, long before the sun had had enough time to soften the snow.

Remus had two options at this point: (i) ski his way down the steep slope, endure five excruciating minutes of utter terror the likes of which he has never known before, and risk perhaps the continued functionality of his spinal cord, or (ii) click out of his skis and start the long climb back up to the chairlift to ride it down. One more look downwards, and his decision was made: peace out, Slope of Death. He stepped out of his skis, threw them over his shoulder, and began the long trek upwards in the most stiff and uncomfortable boots known to man. Fear, misery, and freezing temperatures. Not his ideal vacation. Fucking James.

He was winded after walking about ten steps thanks to a combination of the elevation, the steep hill, and the calf-crushing ski boots. But at least there was nobody around this early to see him struggle so pathetically. But after taking a few more steps, he looked up and muttered another curse -- shit, he must have jinxed himself. Another skier began to descend down the run, slowing down and changing direction as soon as he spotted Remus walking along the edge of the run. 

“What are you doing?” The skier asked curiously after making an annoyingly graceful parallel stop about three feet away. He was wearing a sleek black coat and black ski pants, the color of his outfit standing out in stark contrast to both the bright white snow and the fair skin visible below his ski goggles.

“I’m walking back up to the chairlift,” Remus responded curtly, praying that the stranger would accept his explanation and leave him to conquer this miserable mission alone.

“Ah, you can’t take that chairlift down,” the man informed him with a slight tilt to his head. Remus snapped his head over in the direction of the man, immediately filled with angry disbelief.

“You’re kidding,” He said dryly, beginning to think that he may cry for the first time in years.

“Afraid not,” the skier in black responded simply, eliciting a desolate cry from Remus. He was going to kill James. “But I’ll help you down the hill. You can do it, we’ll take it one turn at a time.”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Remus grumbled in the voice of a man broken. He was racking his brain for a time in his life he had felt more miserable than he did in this moment and came up short.

“I guess not,” the stranger laughed, “but look how beautiful the mountain is right now. This is one of the best views you can find.”

“Bullshit. I would give anything to be anywhere else right now,” Remus snapped as the stranger laughed again and shook his head at Remus’ negativity. He knew he was being an asshole, he might regret it later, but he was in no mood to care at the moment. He took a deep, steadying breath before setting his skis back on the ground and clipping back in. There was no other option. “Alright let’s just get this over with.” 

“Great, follow me,” the man said, then smiled encouragingly. “I’ll go slow, I promise.” Despite Remus’ terrible mood, the man’s steadfast support was preventing the situation from descending into a total catastrophe. Remus nodded at him begrudgingly.

Remus steadied himself on his poles and pushed forward, following the man’s lead and taking an initial sharp turn to the left. It wasn’t too steep yet, but that wasn’t going to last much longer. When Remus reached where the other skier had paused to wait for him, he led Remus back over to the right side of the slope, another sharp turn to cut across the snow without gaining too much speed. 

Remus continued following his lead, gaining more and more speed as each turn became steeper and steeper, focusing on keeping his breathing in check even as the sound of his skis carving across the iced-over snow made his blood surge with panic. He kept his eyes on the smooth skier in black in front of him, a distraction from the instinctual fear that could cause him to lose his form, and thus his balance, in these icy conditions. Before he knew it, he was almost through with this hellish experience, his guardian angel standing at the bottom of the slope just 100 feet ahead. 

Comforted with the end in sight, Remus skied straight down the end of the slope and parallel-stopped in front of the stranger. He looked back up at the hill he had just survived, noting that it appeared obnoxiously less intimidating from this vantage point. But he had made it. He was alive. His spine was still in pristine condition. He was getting off this godforsaken mountain. And unluckily for James, a properly wielded ski makes a damn good murder weapon.

“Thank you for that,” Remus sighed gratefully, the ferocity that had laced his voice minutes earlier nearly totally gone now.

“No problem, really,” the man said genuinely, “I’ve had people help me before, it happens to everyone. It’s just what we do here.” He shrugged and smiled brightly, and Remus’ eyes widened when he realized how handsome the man was up close, even with goggles on. And at that realization, he felt a pang of embarrassment over what had transpired between them only minutes ago.

“Uh, right, well, thanks again,” Remus muttered quickly, turning towards the trail marked by the green circle that would take him back down to the bottom of the gondola. “Have a good ski day.”

“Wait! Hey, wait!” Remus heard the man call a couple of seconds later. He slowed down and waited for the main to catch up. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, trying to escape from this humiliation? And the cold? I’m retreating to warmth and coffee?”

“You’re so cute,” the skier in black laughed. After a moment, he continued, “I think you should buy me dinner later tonight to thank me for saving your life.”

Remus coughed in shock, eventually laughing darkly at the absurdity of the last ten minutes of his life. “Well, that might be a stretch. At worst I would have been paralyzed.” 

The man smiled again, shaking his head softly. “I’d say that that still deserves at least a couple drinks, yeah?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the last of his tension melt away. “Absolutely.” Maybe something good could come out of nearly having a panic attack on top of an ice-covered mountain.

“Brilliant,” the skier exclaimed as he wrestled one of his gloves off and dug his phone out of his coat pocket, “Let me get your number. By the way, my name is Sirius Black.” 

*****

Nine hours later, a far more grounded Remus walked into the restaurant in downtown Steamboat Springs that Sirius had suggested before they parted ways. It was situated along the Yampa River and felt like the perfect place to wind down after a long day of skiing, or a particularly short and stressful one in Remus’ case. The left side of the restaurant was designated for dinner reservations, while the right side was an upscale bar. Remus turned his attention to the bar area to look for Sirius, suddenly realizing that he didn’t actually know what the man looked like beyond his stunning smile. 

His worries were unfounded, however, when his search was interrupted by a man in the corner who had stood up to wave to him. Remus’ eyes widened as he realized that Sirius was, hands down, the most gorgeous man that he had ever seen. His black ski helmet had been traded in for shoulder-length black hair, and his ski goggles for piercing gray eyes and sharp cheekbones, the combination of which sent adrenaline shooting through Remus’ veins. He took a deep breath and muttered another obscenity for the second time that day, and walked over to the corner of the room where Sirius had reserved two large armchairs which faced each other with a table in between.

“How did you even recognize me so quickly?” Remus asked after he had walked over to greet the other man, relieved that his voice did not betray how smitten he suddenly felt.

“Your mouth,” Sirius responded matter-of-factly, without missing a beat. Remus felt a blush begin to creep up his neck and quickly make its way to his cheekbones. He cursed his body for the betrayal he thought he had altogether avoided only seconds earlier and kept his facial expression even.

Remus cleared his throat and turned his gaze away from the man in front of him, whose grin and one raised eyebrow seemed to indicate he didn’t miss the blush, and over to the bar. “I owe you a drink,” Remus said mildly, “what would you like?” 

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned,” Sirius supplied. 

Remus nodded and headed over to the bar, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He couldn’t believe that a day that had started out so shitty had brought him to this evening. Remus stepped up to the bar and ordered, two Old Fashioneds -- he was not too familiar with cocktails, usually sticking to his preference of IPAs, and decided to follow Sirius’ lead -- before heading back over to sit with Sirius, two drinks in hand. 

Remus handed Sirius his drink and sat down. He watched as the man lifted the drink to his lips before asking him, “So are you always this forward with unsuspecting men that you meet on the ski slopes?”

Sirius nearly choked on his drink and quickly brought it down to cover his mouth to keep from sputtering, causing Remus to beam proudly. Check mate. After a pause, Sirius raised his eyes back up to Remus and flashed him another handsome smile before responding, “Only when they look exactly like you. And only when they snap at me for pointing out beautiful scenery.”

“Perhaps not my finest moment,” Remus laughed, taking the first drink of his Old Fashioned. The whiskey was smoother than he had expected, a pleasant surprise.

“So, Remus Lupin,” Sirius started, enunciating every syllable of the name as he leaned forward, “how did you end up alone at the top of Lower High Noon trying to climb your way back up to the chairlift?” 

Remus let out a long faux-dramatic sigh, all while a small smile played at his lips. “That would be due to my asshole of a friend, James. We both wanted to try Lower High Noon for the first time today, and I requested that we wait until after 11 o’clock so that the snow would soften a bit. But James insisted that at 8:00am it would be fine, ‘we had no problem with Upper High Noon, how much harder can the lower run be?’”

“Oh dear. A lot harder,” Sirius confirmed apprehensively, “And your friend just left you there?”

“Yep,” Remus responded, letting the word pop out of his mouth, “skied right on down without a problem, he thought I was right behind him. But when I got to the steepest part, where you ended up finding me, it was just too much for me with the ice.”

“You got down so easily, a lot better than I had expected based on how you were acting. You’re a good skier! I don’t know what you were so worried about.”

“Ah, I’m not much of a risk-taker, don’t like feeling too out of control or going too fast. My idea of a great ski day is seventy percent relaxed runs and thirty percent challenging runs,” Remus articulated thoughtfully. He paused for a second before taking a drink, deciding it was time to shift the subject away from his uninspiring ski performance, “So where are you from?”

“Originally? New York City. But I’ve lived here in Steamboat for five years now,” Sirius started as he sat back in the armchair and crossed his legs comfortably, “I worked for my father’s banking firm until I was 29-years-old. It took me six years of working there to realize that I was miserable and it wasn’t going to get any better. My friend Lily and I started skiing here in for Spring Break college and I always loved it, always felt like a second home. So I made the leap and moved here; haven’t regretted it once.”

“Wow, the big city businessman who left his corporate suits and posh lifestyle behind to live in Ski Town, USA?” Remus raised his eyebrows in intrigue, “I thought that only happened in movies.” 

Sirius laughed at this, throwing his head back slightly, and Remus’ eyes lingered on his long exposed neck. “I promise I’m not as cliche as I sound.”

Remus hummed in mock apprehension before shooting Sirius another smile. Sirius met his gaze and held it, sending an electric buzz through Remus’ veins, a buzz that Remus knew without a doubt was mutual. 

“Do you work somewhere in town now?” Remus asked.

“Not exactly.” Sirius smiled as he shifted his attention down to stirring his drink, “I’m an author. So I’m always writing either from my townhome or one of the coffee shops around here. My novels have been successful enough that writing is the only thing I do to make money now. Plus I really enjoy it, so I’m very lucky.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, “That’s fantastic, I’ll have to look you up.”

Sirius hummed in response and added, “Please do.” He took a final swallow of his drink and set the glass down on the table in front of him. His legs were uncrossed now, elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward towards Remus once again. “What about you, Remus? What’s your story?”

Remus felt himself being drawn in Sirius’ direction, as if through a magnetic pull, and leaned forward as well, the two men practically symmetrical. “I grew up in an agricultural town in California. But I live in Denver now,” he answered simply, “I teach Linear Algebra at the Colorado School of Mines.” 

“Ah, he’s brilliant too,” Sirius complimented, clearly impressed. “And only three hours away.”

“Three hours away, yes,” Remus repeated thoughtfully, “Not so sure about the brilliant part though.”

“Oh, stuff it, Remus,” Sirius said with a snort, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face behind his ear, “no, seriously, there is no need to be modest. Please let me remind you that I found you trying to walk up a ski slope -- it was truly a pathetic sight. You’re allowed to be proud that you teach at one of the most prestigious engineering colleges in the country.” 

“I guess that would help to even things out a bit.” Remus mused, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to keep his smile from growing too large. He saw Sirius’ eyes linger on his mouth for a moment before flicking back up. 

“There we go,” Sirius replied happily, waiting a moment to change the subject, “I’m in Denver all the time, actually. To meet with my editor.”

“Oh? Well you’ll have to let me know the next time you’re there.” Remus responded without a thought, and was immediately met with a satisfied smile and metallic gray eyes that were glowing now.

They ordered another round of drinks and continued talking, covering an array of topics, from Remus’ childhood living on a farm to Sirius’ complete ignorance of what farming actually entails. After about an hour and a half, Remus closed their tab and followed Sirius out of the restaurant.

“Walk with me along the river?” Sirius asked, nodding to a path just along the street. It was probably twenty degrees out, and small flakes of snow began to fall from the sky, far too cold for any sort of pleasant walk. 

“Of course,” Remus answered without question, buttoning up his coat and then shoving his hands in his pockets. 

The two men walked together, laughing about the weirdest things Sirius had seen on the mountain, Remus’ favorite being the man who routinely came out to ski in the warmer Spring months wearing a pair of jorts and nothing else. The crisp flow of water lulled softly in the background and they walked until they reached a short bridge crossing over the river. Sirius stopped and leaned against the railing and Remus followed his lead, perched close enough next to him that their shoulders were touching. 

“It’s supposed to snow all night,” Sirius said, his voice laced with joy, “which means that ski conditions will be fantastic tomorrow. No more icy runs.” Remus watched the man as he talked, mesmerized by the contrast created from the large white snowflakes landing on top of his black hair. “Maybe I can take you out there tomorrow and show you my favorite runs. I won’t strand you alone on the mountain like a certain friend of yours.”

“Ah, I’d love that, really,” Remus responded sincerely, “I’d like to end the trip with a better ski day, but James and I have to get back to Denver by early afternoon tomorrow. We are leaving first thing in the morning.” 

“I won’t see you tomorrow?” Sirius asked, then shifted his body to face Remus.

“I’m afraid not.” Remus turned as well, their bodies still magnetically in tune.

Sirius scrunched his face in thought for a brief moment, and then his features relaxed again into a smile. “I guess I will have to do this now, then,” he said.

Remus’ eyebrows raised up in curiosity, but his unspoken question was answered as Sirius closed the distance between them, cupped his face gently between his hands, and pressed his lips soundly to Remus’ slightly parted ones. Remus’ breath hitched in surprise, but a beat later, he responded with fervor and grabbed the collar of Sirius' coat, tugging him forward to bring their bodies flush against each other. Sirius’ lips were shockingly warm, and he sought the heat of his mouth eagerly as they stood beneath the light of the street lamp, wrapped around each other in the cold. A light snow was beginning to fall, but neither man noticed.

The feel of Sirius’ lips pulling into smile, followed by a low, breathy laugh, produced the same in his own. When Remus pulled away an inch, he could see their breath rising between them in soft, staccato bursts. There was a snowflake that had landed in Sirius’ eyelash and another on his scarf, and his eyes were slowly opening to look straight into Remus’. And Remus thought he had never seen an image so picturesque in his life.


End file.
